Drunk Giraffe
by words-are-lies
Summary: The Doctor loses his memory...Silly one-shot with childish!Doctor and Clara.


**Drunk Giraffe**

**(Author's Note: **So this is based heavily on the little scene on Doctor Who: The Ultimate Guide. I wrote this because I felt it had a little more potential, so this is what popped out…**)**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE CHARACTERS OR DOCTOR WHO (obviously), it all belongs to the BBC.**

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"I've got all my stuff!" Clara said excitedly as she bounced into the TARDIS. "We're still going on a proper holiday right? We're still going to do something, yeah?" she frowned as The Doctor didn't seem to be replying. He had a frightened look on his face and was trying to hide behind the time rotor, but was failing miserably at hiding it as if he were a child who just spilled crackers on the floor.

"Who are you?" The Doctor questioned accusingly, "Who am I, and where am I?" The fear in his eyes seemed to grow as Clara dropped down her bags unceremoniously and lifted her sunglasses, hair falling into her eyes.

"You've really done it again haven't you?" Clara began, moving towards The Doctor. "Last thing you said to me when I went out: patch the console, repair the interface, and fix the telepathic circuit, or I get my memory wiped." She picked his sonic screwdriver off from where he dropped it and pointed it at him while pressing a button.

"What is that?" The Doctor yelped, stumbling back a few metres. He landed onto the TARDIS's rails and gained balance by holding onto them as if they were his lifeline, then squeaked, "What is it doing? Why do I get frightened at everything?"

Clara ignored his whining and pressed a button on the sonic screwdriver. With a buzz, an interface that she failed to notice before popped up, reading, "The Doctor. Planet of Origin: Gallifrey. Last of the Timelords, and a complete idiot. Current status: Lost memory." She tried to suppress a snort and mumbled, "Obvious things don't need saying."

Remembering what The Doctor always did when he ran diagnostics on things, Clara flicked up the screwdriver, extending it and revealing more options. The interface now read, "Don't look at me, you're the companion, not me. I'm just a screwdriver."

_Figures, _Clara thought, _this is probably why his screwdriver never helps us when we're about to die!_

"Stop!" The Doctor shrieked. He had flattened his hands and put them in defensive position in front of him, pretending he was Bruce Lee. "I know karate, and I'm not afraid to use it if you don't stop pointing that thing at me!" He warned, slicing the air with false conviction.

Clara retracted the extended end of the screwdriver and placed it on the console. She then pointed a finger at The Doctor, frowning at his theatrics, "Relax, I was just running diagnostics," she assured. "Although it didn't really work," she added indifferently.

The Doctor moved closer to the console and leaned on it, trying to act nonchalant from his silly outburst. "Clara, if that's your name, whoever I am, don't laugh, but…I think I've lost my memory." He tried to casually cross his arms but his expression was the complete opposite of what he was attempting.

Clara picked the sonic screwdriver from where she placed it earlier and pointed it at The Doctor, then waved it around to the console. The whir of the sonic reached higher frequencies until it was almost ear shattering, then, as expected, a white flash blinded their eyes.

Once the light faded, The Doctor bounced back upright and cracked his jaw, "I'm back!" He plucked the sonic screwdriver from his companion's hand and pointed it at his head. "All memories are back!" he boomed, triumphant smile on his face.

Clara had covered her face when it got too bright, then lowered her arm when The Doctor started dancing around the console. He had gotten a broom from _god knows where _and had started dancing with it. "Doctor, you're back!" she called.

"I'm back!" He hummed as he twirled the broom, taking one hand off it, he drew his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and pointed it at the console, activating proper dancing music, then tossed his screwdriver to Clara.

"Doctor, what are you doing?" Clara yelled over the load music. He kicked away the broom and lifted both arms in the air and wove them back in forth, effectively doing the absolutely ridiculous 'drunk giraffe'.

Clara waited out The Doctor's dancing for five minutes until he finally stopped to take a break by leaning next to Clara. "Your screwdriver doesn't even work." She pointed out with a frown that said she was still a bit worried that he could've lost his memories forever. She had one arm draped on the rails, and with the other arm, she tossed the sonic back to him.

The Doctor caught his screwdriver with one hand and gawked at the insult to his most precious tool, "Of course it works! You saw that it could do almost anything. Except for wood and turkey." He added the last bit to remind Clara not to call him on Christmas while he fought Daleks and Cybermen to help her cook turkey. "Nothing does turkey…" he mumbled, trying to figure out if _anything _could do turkey.

"It's a magic screwdriver," Clara said flatly.

He grinned brightly and held his hand in the air to punctuate his point, "Exactly. It's a _magical _screwdriver."

Clara slapped his hand out of the air, walked over to the other side of the console and said, "It's a screwdriver that you rely too much on. You'll get us killed one day if you keep using it."

The Doctor slumped and whined like he always did, "What is that _supposed _to _mean_?"

She smiled and confirmed his worst fear, "You're on probation."

She held out her hand, waiting for him to reluctantly hand over his screwdriver.

He frowned and complained, "Everything I have is going to get us killed according to you."

"That's what I'm counting on…except if I notice it. If I notice it, I'll just take it away from you." Clara answered with a grin, then punched him in the arm. "We're still going to go on a proper vacation?" she asked, sure that he would take her to somewhere awesome.

The Doctor rubbed his arm to see if it would relieve the pain. Clara might be small, but she hits like a two ton truck. He ignored the pain, smiled, and said, "Right, fancy a trip to ancient Mars?"

Clara folded her arms and raised an eyebrow, "Will there be cocktails?"

"On the moon."

She turned her shoulders, and smiled while the corner of her lips curved up cutely like they always did when she was amused, "The moon'll do."

**(Author's Note: **Thanks for reading! I like combining little lines from the actual show to give the story a little more life. The reason why Clara takes away The Doctor's screwdriver at the last bit is because I think it's a little overused...anyway, sorry if there were any mistakes in the story, I'm really tired and editing when exhausted is not a good thing.**)**


End file.
